


Tighten Up

by StilesBastille24



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 1x13, Chapter 13, F/M, Jughead’s Serpent Jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesBastille24/pseuds/StilesBastille24
Summary: Jughead has never been particularly careful. If he had been, he would never have stolen a ladder from Fred Andrew’s garage and used it to climb to the window of the girl next door. And he would never have kissed that girl while her world was crumbling down around her.





	Tighten Up

He wished she could have stayed the night. That with the rain cascading down outside, and the trailer marginally less cold and less damp, she could have stayed with him, in her soft pink shirt and pale blue skirt. 

But even though it hadn’t been Betty’s mom at the door, it was still her shadow looming over them. So Jughead drove Betty home, in the truck that was his dad’s. The truck he had learned to drive at fourteen. It had been a necessity. Someone had to get his dad home from the Whyte Worm when FP had had the classic ‘one too many.’ 

It hadn’t been Jughead’s dad who taught him to drive though. FP Jones wasn’t aware enough of Jughead’s world to realize it was a skill Jughead would require sooner rather than later. No, Fred Andrews had been the one to take Jughead aside the summer before high school and show Jughead the ins and outs of driving the five mile distance between the Worm and the trailer park. 

Now, pulling up to the curb outside Betty’s house, Jughead puts the car in park and looks sidelong at his girlfriend. The Serpent’s jacket is still a weight around his shoulders and the whole drive over, Betty has been shooting it questioning looks. He hasn’t answered those questions, not knowing the answers himself. 

“Betty,” he says before trailing off. Jughead can talk himself in and out of trouble at the drop of the hat. It’s only with Betty that he forgets his words or loses the courage to speak them. 

She looks up at him, her beautiful eyes wrinkled with worry. “I love you, Jughead.” She says it firmly, like a rock to keep him from drifting at sea. 

The waters are rough right now and he knows they aren’t likely to get any smoother for a while. His dad’s in jail with the prospect of twenty years. His mom is in Ohio with no intention of coming back. He’s been placed with a foster family of people he’s never met and tied to living on the Southside with no reprieve to the Northside. 

“Betty Cooper.” He grins, mouth turning up in a rare smile. 

She unbuckles her seat belt slowly, pink trench coat sitting unused on the small bench seat behind the front seat of the truck. She crowds toward him, her hands cupping his face. “Tell me,” she prompts.

“I love you, Betty Cooper,” he answers, voice soft as his smile grows. 

She smiles in response, but there is a fierceness to the expression, one that lights Jughead up. Betty will fight for him. She’ll claw her nails into him, bind him to her like a stone tied to rope. And when she drags him beneath the surface of the water, he’ll go gladly. 

Betty is the best thing that has ever happened to Jughead. She matches him at every turn, every bit as jagged and vicious as Jughead can be himself. Now, she pulls him toward her, presses her mouth bruisingly against his, and Jughead drinks it in.

This everything. Betty is everything. She is all consuming. There is no need for air when Betty breathes life into his lungs. 

Any minute now, Alice Cooper will come out of the Cooper’s perfect two story, and yank her daughter free of this Southside delinquent’s arms, but she’ll never be able to break them apart. Not when Jughead has wrapped himself around Betty’s heart like a rose vine, thorns dug in deep, the same way she’s done to him. 

When the kiss ends, Betty’s eyes are bright with determination. Jughead leans back in, sucking her bottom lip between his, licking the taste of her from her smooth skin. “I love you,” he repeats. 

She watches him, tracks him with her eyes. “If I ask you to, will you take off the jacket?”

“If I keep it on, will you stay?” he counters. 

“Wherever you go, I’m going with you, Jughead.”

Jughead kisses her again, soft and gentle. “If you asked me to burn it, I’d find a box of matches.”

She nods slowly. “Be careful, Juggie.”

“Always,” he promises. They both know it’s a lie. 

Jughead has never been particularly careful. If he had been, he would never have stolen a ladder from Fred Andrew’s garage and used it to climb to the window of the girl next door. And he would never have kissed that girl while her world was crumbling down around her. 

A light flicks on in the darkened windows of the Cooper household. They both turn to squint at the sudden glare. Betty is still bent toward Jughead and he uses her position to turn Betty’s face toward his with a finger on her chin. 

“I wouldn’t want Mama Cooper to have any doubts,” he whispers, eyes sparking with mischief. Then he sets his mouth to the curve of Betty’s collar bone.

He kisses sweetly at first, enjoying the soft intake of Betty’s breath. Then, as her hands tangle in his hair, he starts to suck. Teeth nibbling against her pale skin, tongue laving over the mark he’s leaving. Her nails scratch against his scalp and he bites sharply at her neck.

She pulls back with gasp, eyes darting to his in the dark of the cab. “I’ll have to wear collars for a week,” she says with a grin.

Jughead agrees with a quiet, “Mm,” before kissing his mark on her skin. Even in the dark, he can see the pattern of red against the creamy white of her neck. 

“Tell me again,” she says, reaching behind her for the door handle.

“I love you, Betty Cooper.”

The metal creaks as she opens the door. She scoots back on the seat and Jughead reaches over the seat to get her trench coat. He hands it to her, fingers brushing against each other. 

At the Cooper Residence, the porch light turns on. Jughead glances away from Betty to see the front door opening. In a moment, he knows, Mrs. Cooper will be in the doorway, arms crossed, expression sour, as she watches her youngest daughter exit FP Jones’s truck. 

Who in this town would have guess that Jason Blossom’s murder would bring together Riverdale’s Nancy Drew with it’s very own Donnie Darko? Not Alice Cooper. Not if she could have stopped it. 

But it’s too late now. And as Betty leans back in for a final kiss, she skims her cheek against Jughead’s, whispering in his ear, “I love you, Jughead Jones, the third.”

He wishes she could have stayed the night. But saying ‘good night’ is something promising on its own. Because there will always be a ‘good morning’ to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](Http://Jellybeanjonestheiii.tumblr.com)


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